


Tell Me I'm Pretty

by MissTaken4Mad



Category: Fairly OddParents
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 10:56:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10512360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissTaken4Mad/pseuds/MissTaken4Mad
Summary: In which Veronica has had enough (alternately: Veronica spends entirely too much time obsessing over Trixie’s looks).





	

Truth be told, Veronica didn’t hate Trixie.

            Resented her, sure—but didn’t every girl? And Veronica had more reason than most, because in spite of everything, in spite of all the ways she’d tried to break away without losing her status (before realizing that she couldn’t, because Trixie _was_ the status at Dimmsdale High), they’d been together all their lives. They were always being compared and Veronica always ended up on the wrong end of the comparisons, because let’s be honest, who wouldn’t pale in comparison to Trixie Tang? But being eternally beside her, eternally the sidekick, Veronica bore the brunt of it—if Trixie was pretty, what did that make _Veronica_? If Trixie was smart, _Veronica_ must be an absolute bimbo. There was no middle ground, not that Veronica could hold it against any of them—it was high school, and it was black-and-white, and she knew that better than anyone.

            Veronica didn’t hate Trixie, but it sure felt good to have someone to blame. The truth was, it wasn’t even Trixie’s fault—without Trixie, Veronica might have been the Queen Bee. She was certainly bitchy enough, but as soon as anyone bothered to probe the surface they’d find that she wasn’t meant to be a leader. Veronica was unsteady, unsure of her own two feet. She was forever changing her mind, forever, however reluctantly, looking to Trixie for her next move. Sure, she was captain of the cheer squad, but what did she really need to do there, anyway? Nobody cared how good they were as long as they were hot, and hey, the girls starved _themselves_ , so what did Veronica really need to do there?

            Trixie wasn’t a cheerleader. She wasn’t the type. Trixie didn’t have the physical aptitude, the body, to be a cheerleader, and at first Veronica had reveled in that one thing she had over the girl. But then she’d realized that even then, Trixie had won. Trixie might not have been stick-thin, but, as Veronica was discovering, boys didn’t want stick thin. Boys didn’t want _fat_ , but they certainly appreciated softness and curves, something the slender Trixie had in spades (of course, of course). It wasn’t as though Veronica _tried_ to be skinny like the other girls; it was more that she just couldn’t put on weight, and was just cursed to be scrawny and awkward for the rest of her life. And that was just fine in high school, where everybody was stupid and believed the labels there would last forever, but in all honesty, who would ever fall in love with shallow, rail-thin Veronica?

            Who would ever call _her_ pretty, even without Trixie standing just over there?

            (Incidentally, Trixie, who was actually _not_ a complete bitch, much to Veronica’s unending ire—just naïve and a little spoiled—was the only person who _didn’t_ agree with Veronica’s increasingly colorful metaphors for herself. “You’re svelte,” she’d always say. “You have a beautiful figure.” The _one_ thing Veronica always appreciated about her was that Trixie never went for the whole “ _I wish I looked like that_ ” bullshit, because if there was anything Veronica hated more than always being compared to Trixie, it was being blatantly lied to in order to spare her feelings, and who didn’t want to look like Trixie Tang?)

            It wasn’t as if Veronica were spending _all_ of her days engulfed in bitterness—after all, being Trixie’s lackey had its advantages. Veronica never got any of the sleazy pick-up lines—Trixie was always fielding those long before they came her way, which was a good thing, because Veronica wasn’t entirely certain she could do the whole ‘smile, hair-toss, and move on’ thing Trixie always did. And Veronica never had to want for a place to sit, or a partner in gym class; being by Trixie’s side meant full access to _the_ cafeteria table, and being her humble best friend gave her full rights to the girl for any and all paired assignments from gym to chemistry. She never even had to worry about being shunted for a boy, because they never lasted more than a month (although, if she was being entirely honest, the reason for her not having to worry had less to do with the duration of the relationships and more to do with Trixie being a surprisingly good friend).

            In all honesty, Veronica didn’t have such a bad deal. So what if she never fell in love? That just meant she’d never get used and tossed aside like a bag of dog shit, though God knew Trixie never would.

            And there it was, the kicker, the big ‘but’.

            All this was true, _but_ Veronica was still always second to Trixie, and even though it did her more good than harm, maybe she’d like to experience being first, just once. So she had a cushy high school life, _but_ Trixie always had it better. Yes, there were boys that wanted to bang Veronica, _but_ Trixie had boys who came up to her for absolutely nothing more than to tell her she was pretty.

            Just once, Veronica thought, just _once_ , she’d like to be pretty.

            Just once, she’d like to be the one turning down some pervert at the mall.

            Just once, Veronica would like to be elected homecoming queen, not just nominated and relegated to Trixie’s court.

            Just _once,_ and it would all be okay.

            Just _once_ , and Trixie could win the heart of the world for all she cared.

            Just once, Veronica wanted to be first in _somebody’s_ eyes.

* * *

 

It was senior year of university before it happened, but it finally did.

            And despite all her fantasizing and dreaming, Veronica had no idea it was coming until it hit her smack in the face.

            Well, lips.

* * *

 

 “V…”

            “I know, I know, you never liked him,” Veronica snapped. She laughed, humorlessly, and then her eyes hardened as she shook her head, disbelief etched deep into her features. “You don’t even _want_ him.”

            (And that makes it worse.)

For some insane, asinine reason unbeknownst to her, she was _still_ glued to Trixie’s hip, even now that her status didn’t depend on her. It was funny, how little who they used to be effected who they were once they went off to college. Here, there must have been hundreds of Trixies on campus—hundreds of once Queen Bees who were perfectly content to be relative nobodies outside their circle of friends. Hell, Timmy ‘wears pink all the time and has a weird, vitriolic friendship with Remy Buxaplenty and nobody wonders if he’s _gay’_ Turner was in their immediate circle of friends, alongside Tootie (who’d since given up on her crush and had since hopped wholeheartedly aboard the S.S. Rimmy along with Trixie back in freshman year).

            The biggest difference was in Trixie herself, though—Veronica had known about her closet-nerd tendencies for a while, but Trixie had always tried so damn hard to keep it under wraps from everybody else. Now, it was like she didn’t even care—Veronica had actually had to _worry_ about _Tootie_ taking her place for a while there. She was still lovely, of course, and incredibly popular amongst the frat boys, thanks to the influence of Tad and Chad.

            (Tad and Chad, she remembered with a trace of fondness—they’d been there, too, all those years, and they’d become something like brothers to her ((Trixie moreso now that her tomboyish side had emerged openly)). There had been a brief stint with Chad that one night in the gym but…some friendships were better staying as just that. In the end, the only enjoyment Veronica got from the experience was the thinning of Trixie’s perfectly pink lips and the look of fury she got afterwards, though to this day she didn’t know what brought on the reaction to begin with.)

            It was the middle of midterm season, a time of year characterized mostly by the few stubborn leaves that had managed to stay attached to their trees finally falling to the ground, and by the ever-present rattling off of flashcards and wonderings about which professors were bribable.

            Veronica wasn’t concerned—her grades had never been lacking.

Neither had Trixie’s—in fact, Trixie regularly surpassed Veronica in any and every assignment, quiz, test, and just graded academia in general (Veronica was better in art, because _that_ mattered to anyone).

            Whatever the circumstances, they had led to the present situation—Veronica, sullen and cross-legged on her bed and Trixie sat at the desk, looking sorry (which really only further annoyed Veronica—it was infinitely easier to be angry with someone who was actively argumentative than with someone who looked so distraught (and so, _so_ pretty)).

            Trixie had, once again, managed to steal another one of Veronica’s ‘boyfriends’—or, rather, a nameless, faceless boy she’d slept with once because she had been feeling particularly inferior (and maybe a little drunk) at that one party.

            (It didn’t matter that Trixie hadn’t _really_ stolen him—didn’t matter that Veronica didn’t even know his last name. It was the principle of the matter, and Veronica was just… _sick_ of it.

            Trixie frowned from where she was sitting on the chair accompanying Veronica’s cluttered desk. “That’s not why I…” She took a deep breath, then immediately released it again in the form of a long-suffering sigh that made Veronica want to strangle herself with her own hair. “I’m not happy about this, V.”

            “And why not, _T_?” Veronica replied cattily, emphasizing Trixie’s nickname. “Did it get boring being the best at everything all the time?”

            “God, Veronica, why do you always have to _be_ like this? Why do you always have to be so…” Trixie let out a frustrated noise, somewhere between a scream and a growl, running slender, ringed fingers through onyx locks in irritation (she was going to mess up her hair, and wouldn’t that be a shame?). “Why do you always have to be so _jealous_?”

            “ _Excuse_ me?” Veronica replied, flushing crimson with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. She turned to completely face Trixie, who’d stood up by this point and was leaning against the side of her bed. “Why do _I_ always have to be like this? When was the last time _I_ bitched about someone you dated? When was the last time _I_ told you what to do? When was the last time _I_ was the one somebody wanted? When was the last-fucking-time _I_ was _anyone’s_ first choice?!” She was panting now, her throat raw and her face, she was sure, an angry red. After all this time—after more than two decades of holding it in, it had crumbled in less than a minute.

“And you _stand_ _there_ ,” Veronica ground out, her voice much quieter now but more dangerous than ever, “and ask me why I’m always so _jealous_?” Her hands clenched into fists—a wet sensation beneath her fingertips told her that her nails had broken the skin. “As if anyone could be anything else with _Trixie Tang_ standing next to them.”

            For her part, Trixie looked like someone had just slapped her across her (pretty) face.

            “V…why didn’t you say—”

            “What _could_ I say, Trixie? Stop being so popular? Stop being _you_?” Veronica’s voice was just barely more than a mumble now. “Stop being so goddamn _pretty_ so maybe _somebody_ will look at _me_?”

            “You are pretty, V,” Trixie replied quietly, in a tone completely unlike herself. Something inside Veronica twisted violently when she realized that Trixie—unflappable, unbreakable Trixie Tang—looked close to tears.

            _Disgust. It’s disgust, that’s all. How_ dare _she look like that when you’re the one who wants to fall apart? How d_ are _she look at you like that, like her heart is breaking?_

            Veronica scoffed, the bitter voice that was forever whispering in the back of her mind manifesting in her next words. “Don’t patronize me, Trixie—that’s the one thing I always admired about you. At least you never lied. Don’t ruin it now.”

            She watched as Trixie’s jaw clenched, sapphire (and _God_ , they really _were_ ) eyes narrowing to slits.

            “I’m not _lying_.”

            But to be perfectly honest, Veronica was _so far_ past the point of giving a shit.

            “You know, I am so _sick_ of—”

            “Oh, really?” Trixie snapped back with a vengeance, posture rigid as she whirled on Veronica, eyes flashing.

And there it was, there was that _something_ Veronica was always lacking, the reason she was never the leader. She gulped despite her ire, suddenly feeling sick—she’d never been on this end before.

“You know what I’m sick of, Veronica? I’m sick of you constantly putting yourself down, comparing yourself to me when we are _nothing_ alike!” Veronica balked, and Trixie scoffed. “Don’t even go there, you _know_ how I meant it,” she chided, and Veronica’s jaw shut so quickly that there was an audible click. “I’m sick of you rolling your eyes every time I tell you you’re better than these douchebags you keep dating, and you know what? I’m really pretty fucking tired of you dating them to begin with!”

            “Well, I’m sorry _my_ dating life is such a burden on _you_ ,” Veronica snarled, sitting up straighter, forcing herself to look Trixie in her angry blue eyes. “Maybe if you’d find yourself a boyfriend, you’d have less time to worry about _my_ love life. But I forgot, nobody here’s good enough for Trixie Tang, _sorry_.”

            “You are _such_ a brat!” Trixie declared, and once again Veronica was rendered speechless. “You are just…do you have any idea of how you effect other people with all the self-hatred and comparisons? How could anybody think they stand a chance when you’re always comparing yourself to everyone you see?”

            “I don’t compare myself to _everyone_!” Veronica retorted, indignant. “And it’s kind of hard not to compare myself to _you_ when we’re pretty much fucking _married_ to each other, isn’t it? Kind of hard to get so much as a _date_ when you’re always standing right there, looking like some kind of fucking supermodel by comparison!”

            “It wouldn’t be hard at all if you weren’t such an idiot!”

            Veronica balked. “How is _your_ sex appeal related to _my_ intelligence?”

            “No, you’re right,” Trixie said, rolling her eyes. Veronica glowered. They were nearly nose to nose now, and she could make out every stupid, pretty lash surrounding those stupid, pretty eyes. “Because if you were half as smart as your _mouth_ , you might accidentally see what’s _right in front of your face_.”

            “Right in front of my—how can I see what’s right in my face when _your_ stupid face is blocking it?”

            It was little more than a second. Trixie had taken advantage of their proximity and Veronica’s ire to catch her off-guard, and she had already pulled away, fingers ghosting warmth over Veronica’s cheeks, by the time the blonde realized what had happened.

* * *

“You’re pretty, Veronica.”

            She was nothing like Trixie. Absolutely nothing at all.

            Trixie Tang was beautiful, confident, sexy, positively _breathtaking_ in a way that petty, bitter, unsure Veronica would never be.

            But (undoubtedly through some sort of genetic predisposition toward people who were beneath her) Trixie thought Veronica was _pretty_.

And this time—Veronica wasn’t sure—but _this time_ , she thought maybe she might just believe it.

* * *

 

All Veronica had ever wanted was to be somebody’s first choice, and maybe, if she was lucky, to fall in love.

It had never occurred to her until now, lying with her head in Trixie’s lap as long, manicured fingers ran through her hair as Trixie laughed about something or other Timmy had done this week, that maybe the way to go about both those things was to be the first choice of the girl who always came in just one spot ahead of her.

* * *

 

(In hindsight, she supposed she always _had_ been just a tad more focused on Trixie’s looks than what would have been normal.)

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little oneshot for one of my uncommon pairings. I wouldn't call it a crack pairing because it DOES have some sort of base but I'm pretty sure nobody is going to even see this, haha. But if you do, any comments you leave would be greatly appreciated :)


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